Shadow Target (Shadow Team #6)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

S ometime later, Shep drifted off to sleep, Willow at his side, pressed warmly against him. He remembered her nuzzling against his neck, kissing him, her arm draped across his damp torso. The tendrils of her hair were damp as well; a red carpet spread out across his chest. The scent of her hair, combined with her womanly fragrance, made him feel a peace that he’d never felt as deeply before. Being with Willow always allowed him to relax, but never to the depth he now slowly became aware of as the darkness of sleep quietly wrapped its wings around him.

It was dark when Shep slowly awakened much later. His first sensation was the warmth and womanly softness of Willow sleeping, still pressed against the length of his body. Even in sleep, they sought this closeness with one another. His arm was curved around her shoulders, holding her close to him. Marveling that they clung to one another, as if to life preservers, he slowly looked around the room. There was a nightlight out in the hall, spilling light in through the partially open bedroom door. She had left her iPod on out in the living room, and he could hear the quiet, instrumental music of a harp playing from its speakers. Shep knew she loved symphony music; loved harps, oboes and English horns. It wasn’t his kind of music. He liked bluegrass and New Orleans jazz, but this music suited his mood right now.

Looking up at the shadowy, white, nondescript ceiling, he allowed all his senses to open completely to Willow. He felt her warm, moist breath against his neck and upper chest. She was glued to him in the nicest of ways. Over their three years apart, she had grown even more slender than before. She was almost skinny, and that concerned him. But… look at himself: He’d lost his appetite after she’d left. Food had no longer held any enjoyment for him. Nothing had, as a matter of fact. There had been rare times, when they were both at Bagram, in the married unit, when one or the other could cook a meal for both of them. Shep had looked forward to those times; to be able to sit down and share a meal had been a rarity back then. He frowned as he considered for the nth time, that marrying as active combatants, especially in Afghanistan, had put the first nails in the coffin of their marriage. Its collapse wasn’t just down to communication issues. It was also the many other stressful pressures on them at the time. They’d lived in a world of shock and trauma.

Moving his fingers gently up and down her warm, firm upper arm, he felt such a fierce love for Willow that he knew he could never adequately put into words. Maybe men were designed to show, not tell, how they felt? Willow would scoff at that notion, explode the lie that it was, just as she had in the past during their many heated conversations on the topic. She’d made it clear that God had given men a tongue and mouth to speak with, too. So, any excuse to the contrary was a moot point in her world, and she’d made it more than clear that he’d damned well better start communicating fully with her; emotions and all.

A faint, wistful smile hooked at the corners of his mouth as his mind ranged over so many faceted memories of their time together at Bagram. It had been a helluva two-and-a-half years together. Just as there’d been a war surrounding them, there’d also been a war of unending battles going on within their marriage, the reflections of their outer and inner worlds combining and eventually tearing them apart. He had enough distance on their doomed marriage to realize that marrying and living in a combat zone was about as far from ideal as one could get. He wasn’t willing to blame it all on that, however. He knew he had issues with communication and couldn’t fault Willow on her need to talk deeper and more intimately with him. He’d had three years to chew on that, and eventually realize she’d been right. He’d only given a part of himself out of the bedroom, not all of him that she’d demanded and expected—until now.

Willow stirred, making a snuffling noise against his neck that turned his rueful half-smile into a full, honest grin. She moved one of her long, beautiful legs and he relished how soft she felt. How much he’d missed this! Missed her! Her fingers moved against his chest and then she brought them to her face, rubbing her eyes as she slowly rolled away from him to lay on her back. Releasing her, he eased himself up on his left side, one arm still beneath her neck, watching her awaken in the grayness of the bedroom. All the stress around her eyes that had clung there before, had now dissolved. Her hair was tousled, a red frame around her face. Willow was all woman, but she had the amazing ability to be childlike, too. He found it tough to be that way himself, but over the years together, she had helped him become more spontaneous. She drew out the little boy deeply closeted within his adult body. Shep watched as her thick, long red lashes slowly, slowly opened.

“Uhhh,” Willow groaned, “I feel like I fell off a cliff and died.”

He moved a few strands of her hair away from her temple. “Hopefully in a good way and not a bad one?” he teased, seeing how cloudy her shadowed eyes looked. Willow did not wake up quickly. She was one of those people that relied on strong coffee first thing, and then another hour or so afterward, to really be alert. Shep often wondered when she was on combat duty, asleep in the ready room and a call came in for her, how she was instantly able to leap up and get to her combat jet. Adrenaline, he supposed, his grin curving even higher as she puckered her lips, making more snuffling sounds and rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. How much he loved her. How much he wanted this to work out for them this time around.

“Uhh, oh, always good. You know that Shep…,” and she yawned.

Chuckling, he continued to touch her lightly here and there, watching the pleasure come to her expression. She invited this kind of tender caresses. So sensitive. Shep wondered if that trait was connected to her red hair. Even though she was obviously a hardline go-getter, sensitivity-wise, she was off the chart. Exquisitely so. He’d never told her this, but as far as orgasms went, he’d never met a woman that could come as quickly and easily as she did. Her body was always super-susceptible to his touch. It didn’t take much to bring her over the top.

One day, he’d like to explore that with her; to find out what she thought about her vulnerability to his touch. That was communication, too, he reminded himself, so he wasn’t a complete loser when it came to that, even if it was of the non-verbal variety. Touch was another communication tool, and he felt a jolt of pleasure at that “aha!” moment of realization. He was beginning to grasp that all the questions and insights that swirled around in his mind had to be verbalized so that Willow could share in what he was thinking or feeling. If he didn’t open his mouth, she didn’t know. And she was right: he’d been cheating her out of that intimate bond she desperately needed between them. He got it now. He wouldn’t forget.

Leaning down, he rested his lips against the curly hair at her temple. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve loved watching you wake up, Willow. Every tiny expression in your face, those little noises you make when you’re waking up, they make me smile. They make me love you even more than I did before. Did you know that?” He was going to lay it all in front of her, his efforts to try and communicate wobbly at first. Her lashes opened quickly, and he held her stunned gaze. Had he said something WRONG? God, that’s what he lived in horror of doing: saying the wrong thing and hurting her feelings. Or otherwise screwing up again, as usual. And then, those full lips of hers curved and she lifted her hand, grazing his jaw, holding his uncertain gaze.

“Wow, just wow,” she murmured, her eyes serious.

“What?” His heart fell with terror. He anxiously absorbed her expression, not understanding what she meant.

“That’s so beautiful,” she sighed, leaning up, kissing him softly. Laying down, snuggling against him, she added, “You’re a poet, Shep. You have such a beautiful way with words. And you hid all of that from me.”

Stunned, he lay there above her, staring at her, now put at a loss for words. “Really?” was all he could choke out. A poet? A poet!!! That would be the last word he’d ever use regarding himself!

Laughing a little, her voice drowsy, she said, “If this is the new Shep Porter, I really like him. I like that you are trying to talk and share with me what’s in your heart, what you are feeling right this very moment. Keep doing it. I love it. I love you…”

Her sincerity totaled him. Shock, sweet with its utter relief, rolled through Shep as he saw the love shining in Willow’s eyes only for him. “But all I did was tell you what was running through my mind.”

“Yes. See how easy it really is, Shep? You know I need to know what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling. And just now? Sharing your words with me is like giving me chocolate.”

He knew her intense love of chocolate. “What did you mean by ‘wow’?”

She slowly sat up, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, the ends nearly touching her breasts. Wiping her eyes, she said, “That ‘wow’ meant that it made me feel so good to be a woman, to be with you. You’ve never given words like that to me before. And I loved it!” Her voice grew husky, and she reached out, cradling his jaw in her hand. “And I love you, Shep. I never stopped loving you.”

Capturing her hand in his, he held it against his heart. “I love you, too, Willow. I never stopped loving you, either. I thought I had, but that wasn’t true.” He grimaced. “I’m pretty good at lying and hiding the truth from myself.”

She laughed a little as she leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. “I was in denial too, Shep. And it only took nearly dying to get us to realize we’ve always loved one another, and that it was worth it to try one more time…”

Unable to stop from smiling, he absorbed her naked beauty, that wild, untamable red hair of hers, that glint of confidence in her eye, and that stunning body of hers. “You know, in the last three years? You’ve grown more beautiful, Angel,” and he reached out, stroking her arm, the tenderness reflected in her eyes. He found it crazy that what had always run through his mind, she loved hearing come out of his mouth, instead. It was that simple. Shep could see the profound and instant affect it’d had on upon Willow. Emboldened, reaching out, sliding his fingers through her silky hair, he added huskily, “There isn’t anything I don’t love about you. Things were always great when we were making love.”

Lids closing, she leaned into his hand as he gently massaged her scalp. “That’s true.” She opened her eyes again, staring into his own, as his hand moved to her shoulder. “Do you see now, just a little bit, what else I need from you, Shep? Can you imagine how much better we’ll get along now that you’ll put your words out there?”

“Yes, I get it. I understand now. I’m just sorry it took so long.” And he was. He’d be forever sorry for the three years they’d lost with one another because of it.

She leaned forward, resting her hand on his hard, flat belly. “Every time I tried to ask you about your family. You refused to go there. You would never talk about your mom or dad before.” She smoothed her hand across his flesh. “You started to the other day, but I feel like there was more. Could you share that with me, now? Because I really feel in my gut and in my heart that you closed up for a reason. And in my experience? It’s usually because of something terrible that happened in a person’s childhood.”

Shep felt his stomach clench even though Willow’s warm hand felt supportive. He saw the pleading in her eyes, heard the barely restrained feelings in her low voice. Placing his hand over hers, he rasped, “You’re right. Here goes the rest of it: the woman my father married, after the divorce was final… she was already pregnant with his child. He just… went away without explanation from my mother, without telling her WHY he left.”

“Do you want to talk about what you and your mom went through?”

Now that the first part was out of him, it didn’t seem as important to hide the rest; to hide the past he’d always been so ashamed of. The tenderness in Willow’s expression made it easier for him to go on, “It was terrible, Willow. At the time, at my age, I couldn’t put it into words or perspective. My father bought a house on the other side of town, married that woman, and that was his new life. I rarely saw him. My mother’s reaction was severe, but I didn’t see it then at nine years old. I thought it was common that anyone who was in her place would withdraw from everything. On some nights, I’d hear her sobbing in her bedroom, and I felt guilty for not being able to help her to stop crying. Now? As an adult, I realize she was crying for the loss of my father. She’d never talk about it to me or anyone. I was just a kid, and I was confused, scared and lonely. I loved my mother very much, but she retreated from everyone and everything.”

Willow withdrew her hand from his, caressing his jaw. “Your mother never climbed out of that shock to take care of you after that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was she able to love you? Hug you? Be there when you needed someone to talk to?”

Shep rested his forearm across his brow, looking off into the darkness. “No. Like I said, she just dried up, died inside, and went away. Now, looking back on it, my mom was in deep, severe depression. Eventually, she went back to illustrating books. She kept me fed and clothed, but I felt like I was living with a ghost in that house.”

“So, you had no one to talk to about how you felt at all?”

“No. I was ashamed of my mother’s depression, although at that time, I didn’t know what it was called. I only saw the symptoms of it every day; I thought everyone who had that experience would behave like that.”

“Not to mention the trauma of your father leaving, too.”

His mouth tightened. “He had a new life, Willow. A new wife. A new son.” He looked over at her sad face. “I guess he was happy, but I don’t know that for sure. I know my mom and I weren’t. I missed him so much…”

“I see why you closed up,” she said gently. “In a sense, you were abandoned by both your parents in different ways. You grew up never sharing how you felt with anyone because no one was there to ask you questions or care for how you were feeling about all of it.”

Shrugging, he said, “It was just the way it was.” He reached out, capturing her hand resting on her crossed knees. “I got a different slant on it when you walked out on me. I understood the pain of what my mother went through.”

Rubbing her brow, giving him a look of apology, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Shep. I felt so strongly that something wounded you in your childhood, and that’s why you couldn’t bridge the gap with me. But you never told me.” She curled her fingers around his hand. “Until now… This all makes sense to me now.” She released his hand and lay down beside him. She curved one arm around his torso, her head resting on his shoulder. “Now I see why you didn’t understand what I needed from you.”

He caressed her unruly hair. “I cheated you. I cheated us. I was behaving exactly like my mother. It took me three years of wandering the wilderness of Peru to get what you were talking about, what you needed from me, Willow.” He sighed raggedly. “No one is sorrier than me for the pain I caused you or the pain I caused myself.”

Shaking her head, Willow tightened her arm around his middle. “Don’t apologize. You were raised to be silent on all levels of yourself, Shep.” She pulled back, holding his murky, regretful gaze. “You were in a circumstance not of your own making. You were only nine, so young and vulnerable. It tells me why you were afraid to be equally vulnerable with me.”

“I thought I was open to you, Willow. Especially when we loved one another.” It sent his heart aching to think that she’d thought he was that much like his mother: completely and emotionally unavailable. Shep knew the coldness of the shield his mother bore after the divorce. He could never get inside it to touch her like he had before. “I mean, I hated that my mother was closed up and I couldn’t ever get through to her again. I didn’t want to be like her. I tried to be open with you. And I failed.”

“No, you weren’t completely unavailable, Shep. You were open when we loved one another,” she soothed. “I fell in love with the man who made love to me so exquisitely. I wanted THAT MAN twenty-four hours a day,” and she searched his eyes. “Not for an hour at a time.”

It all fell into place for Shep in a blinding instant. Shellshocked for a moment, he digested her impassioned plea. He pushed himself up on his elbow, facing her, caressing her shoulder. “The good news is you are changing that,” she concluded.

Absorbing her words, hearing the hopefulness in them, he nodded. “Okay, I’m going to become that for you, Willow. It’s not going to be easy, but I’ll try every day. Hmmm… Something just occurred to me,” he rasped.

“What?”

“My mother’s drawings, the books she illustrated. She went on to keep doing them for the publishers and… whenever she was painting? She seemed fully absorbed into her creativity. Sometimes, I remember as a teen, I’d come home from school, and she’d be humming as she worked. I always thought she was happy then.” He grimaced. “Well, as happy as she could be.”

“Her creativity gave her some of what she lost when your father left you,” Willow murmured. “She was happy when she was painting, and I’m so glad she had that positive outlet. I’ll bet her depression lifted when she was doing that?”

“She was always lighter, more responsive toward me,” Shep said, nodding. He rubbed his face. “I didn’t put that together until just now.”

“Well,” she laughed a little, “you know how self-absorbed teenagers are, right? You wouldn’t have recognized it then, but I’ll bet you do now.”

Nodding, he said, “Yeah, I can totally relate to that.”

“At least your mother got some happiness out of her life,” Willow whispered, giving him a warm look.

Shep grew quiet and frowned. “You need to know the rest of my family story, Willow. When I was leaving for college, my mother suddenly died of a heart attack.”

Gasping, she sat up. “Oh, no!”

“Yeah,” he muttered, holding her wide-eyed gaze. “I was getting ready to put my bags in my car. Mom wasn’t around and I called for her. I found her laying on the bed, and I couldn’t rouse her. I called 911, but by the time the EMTs got there? She was dead. In fact, the medical examiner told me she had died hours before and there was no way to resuscitate her. I went into shock.”

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Shep… so sorry…”

“I called my dad and told him.” His voice lowered in pain. “He cried, and so did I.” The moments lulled between them and finally, he forced out, “Her funeral was three days later, and he came… he stood next to me. I was crying and couldn’t stop. He put his arm around me, hugged me, and we cried together.”

“Thank goodness he was there, and he held you,” she whispered, closing her eyes tightly.

Shep inhaled deeply and released it. “I have a lot of mixed feelings toward him to this day. I haven’t worked through all of it. I don’t know if I ever will. Or how I feel about him; what he did to my mother…”

“Things like this takes decades to resolve, if at all. Are you in touch with him now?’

He shook his head. “No. After the funeral, he left and that’s the last I heard from him. That’s the way he wanted it, I guess.”

“What did you want?” and she squeezed him hard, her heart swelling to bursting point over the great losses in his childhood.

“I didn’t honestly know, Willow. I hoped someday that I would.”

She sighed, released him, and came around, kneeling in front of him and giving him a tremulous smile. “As tragic as this is for you. You’ve shared it all with me. This is the man I love so much, who lets those shields down and we share,” Tears spilled from her eyes. “You are the man I need. That I love.”

Willow’s tears tore him up inside. Her eyes were such a special color, a translucent, sunlit yellow green, always reminding him of the gemstone, peridot. Her tears only made that color even more breathtaking to him. He gathered her up against him, her tears falling on his chest as he stroked her hair. “You’ll have that man, Angel,” he rasped. “I promise…” He felt her barely nod, her arms going around him, holding him tightly as if he might suddenly disappear on her. He pressed small kisses across her hair, her temple, holding her tightly. Rocking her a little, like he might a crying child, he closed his eyes, pressing his jaw against her head, hurting for the both of them. His heart opened, blossoming in his chest, as she cried unashamedly in his arms, trusting him fully with herself for the first time. That moment was unexpected treasure and he held her and understood the enormity of the gift she’d just given him. Finally, each trusted the other. And he was going to continue to show her he was the man, outside and in, that she’d never stopped loving.

Willow sniffed, and slowly sat up. Shep reached over to the bedstand, pulled several tissues from a box, and handed them to her. She said a “thank you,” that came out muffled, as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose several times. Shep sat up, leaning back against the headboard, his thick, muscular legs on either side of her hips, drawing her up against the front of him. It was such a tender gesture on his part, and her eyes welled up with tears once more. She leaned back against him, his arms around her waist, holding her gently, allowing her this time to weep away three years of loss, hurt and grief. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, her brow against his jaw. He enclosed her with his body, as if to protect her, and never had she felt more loved than right then. Sniffing, she kept wiping her nose. The tears still dribbled down her cheeks, plopping on his taut chest.

“Maybe,” he rasped, placing several small kisses along her hairline, “you had three years’ worth of tears built up?”

Managing a choked laugh, she nodded. “Three years. Yes.” She’d cried buckets after leaving him. And the tears would come out of nowhere. Whether she was flying or on the ground, it didn’t matter. These tears were different though. They were just as much about the losses in Shep’s life, as well as her own. She leaned forward, placing a kiss against his neck. “Thank you for opening the faucet.” She heard a rumble in his chest and knew it was all right. Shep didn’t try to make her stop crying. She shared her tears, and he held her, silently respecting her need to release them.

There was so much good in him, and now, she knew the full truth of his wounding. He was still deeply hurting.

As she wiped her eyes, sniffed, closed them, her hand holding the damp tissue against his chest, Shep held her, to start giving back some of what she had lost of him. It made more tears come. There had been such loss between them over those barren, lonely years. No wonder her needs hadn’t been met. He hadn’t known HOW to meet them. That totaled her all over again and she turned, snuggling up against him, feeling his arms around her, needing to be as close as she could to him. Now, she felt guilty over her demands on him. He’d been doing the best he could, he loved her, but there’d been such a huge disconnect between them. Now? They BOTH understood it. They were older, more mature.

“I-I’m sorry I pushed you so hard to change in our marriage,” she whispered brokenly, moving her hand to his shoulder. “If I’d only known, Shep, we could have maybe done this differently, saved our marriage.”

Shep eased the sodden tissues from her hand and replaced them with fresh ones. Moving his thumb across her damp cheek, he replied softly, “We both made mistakes, but most of the major ones were on my side of the ledger.” His mouth tightened, a dam on a torrent of emotions that could wait for slow release later.

She took his hand, kissing the back of it, bringing it between her breasts. “That’s the past. I’m far more focused on what we can do together, both now and in the future. Aren’t you?” Willow saw the anguish, the love, and the worry in his expression as he remained silent. Knowing he was thinking his methodical way through all this, she was content to give him the time to digest everything. On important issues, Shep always went inside his brilliant mind, looking at them from all angles, before getting back to her. The times he had gotten back to her, that is.

He eased his hand out of hers, cupping her cheek. “What kind of future do you want with me?”

She sighed. “I want to live with you, Shep. I want us to try again. I have NO idea where it will lead, but I’m willing to try. Are you?” She felt the roughness of his fingers as he caressed her face, temple to jaw, saw the burning need for her in his narrowing eyes as he studied her. The silence cloaked them, and it felt familiar and comforting to her. She was learning with Shep, not to goad an answer out of him. He was a tortoise, and she was a roadrunner. It was her turn to make some changes.

“What I want? I want you in my life again, Willow. In any way that you want to share it with me. No ultimatums. No rules. Just whatever moves your heart when it comes to me, to us. For my part? I’d like nothing better than for us to move into one of these condos together. I know I have a lot to make up for. I’m scared as hell because I’m going to stumble and fall many, many times as I try to open up to you, try to be present in the ways you need me to be.” He frowned, stroking her hair. “I’ll take whatever you want to give me, Willow. I going to fight to get you back, and I’ll prove it an hour, a day at a time with you. How does that sound?”

“Better than good,” her voice wobbled, tears gathering in her eyes. “I never thought,” and she hesitated, swamped with emotions.

“What?”

His concern was touching as he kissed her wrinkled brow. “I never thought this could ever happen. It’s a miracle in itself, Shep. Don’t you feel the same way?”

Nodding, he said, “Yeah. Honestly? I feel like I’m in one of my weekly dreams where we get back together and live happily ever after.” He managed a shy little-boy grin. “I’ve had dreams at least once a week about us since you left me. They were always good ones, positive and hopeful.” His grin deepened. “And sometimes, the dream turned pretty hot.”

She saw his cheeks turn ruddy and she loved him fiercely, returning his bashful look. Euphoria flowed powerfully through her. “Can I tell you how many hot dreams I had of us after I left? So many I’ve lost count over the years, Shep.” Shaking her head, she laughed. “Aren’t we a pair?”

“Yeah,” he rumbled, kissing her temple, “I guess we are. Is there hope for us, Willow?”

She sobered. “I believe there is. Or I wouldn’t be here in your arms, in this bed.”

“That pretty much seals it, then,” he said, moving her such that he could look her directly in the eyes. “If we’re agreeing to live with one another? What with the security issues we’ve got presently? Our lives are on the line. I worry about that. I worry for you. And before you protest? I know you can take care of yourself. You proved it yesterday in spades. But we have to look at the present as well as our future, Willow.”

She heard the seriousness in his tone, saw the worry in his expression. Feeling his fierce protectiveness, she moved her hand down his arm wrapped around her waist and small of her back. “Look, I know this is dangerous now. But I’m not stopping flying or delivering goods to your worksite or the other charities in the region, Shep. I’m not going to let that bastard stop me from living my life the way I want.”

He grimaced.

“Well?” She arched her eyebrows, her voice turning adamant, “You think I’m going to cut and run? That’s not my style. I’ll grant I’m not a ground pounder trained like you, but I can learn to be. I’m staying, that’s all there is to it, Shep. So, if you have an argument ready to try and make me leave and be safe Stateside? It isn’t gonna fly. At all. That thought has just crashed and burned.”

Unhappy, he grimaced. “I knew you’d say something along those lines.”

Snorting, she muttered, “I don’t run when things get dicey, Shep. You ought to know that better than anyone.”

“Yeah, I do.” He caressed her shoulder, trying to smooth the tension out of her, knowing he’d ruffled her composure.

“I don’t know what Luke will say when we tell him we’re going to start living together. Also, he has to report all this to Artemis. I’m sure Tal Culver and her mission planners will have protocols to put into place to protect us while we’re here.” she said.

“I’m sure Luke’s on the phone constantly with Wyatt Lockwood about this attack. And Dev is in just as much danger as you are. You’re both flying a plane constantly in and out of this airport. There’s so many things David and his soldiers, if they escape, can sneak in and do to you. I’m sure Artemis will come up with a plan of some sort.”

“Then?” she pleaded, “Give them a chance to talk to us about their ideas? Dev is involved in this, too. She’s an American woman. They could target her just as much as me. Let’s give Artemis a chance to digest the fluid situation and then see what they want us to do?”

Kissing her brow, he said, “That works for me.”

Willow poked him in the chest with her index finger growling, “And, just to be doubly clear: don’t EVER backtrack to the idea that I’m leaving Ethiopia for the States, Shep. That will not fly one inch off the ground with me.”

“Read you loud and clear, Angel.”

She saw how unhappy he was, but Willow had never run from a fight. She’d always run TOWARD it. That was her nature, to engage the enemy, not be driven off by it. She acknowledged her air-war experience did not translate to ground-war tactics. She’d seen that all too up close and personal yesterday when they’d been attacked. “If it hadn’t been for your experience,” she admitted to him, “I’m sure I wouldn’t have survived.”

He kissed her cheek and whispered, “Well, I was there, Willow. It wasn’t our day to die.” He studied her expression. “I know you’re worried. Anyone in their right mind would be. If David is that daring, that cunning, he’ll make another attempt on you or Dev. Or both of you. I’m sure Luke will sort this out with Artemis. Wyatt’s a brilliant tactician and he’ll most likely come up with some fixes that will keep you safer.” He scowled. “But you’ll never be completely safe here, Willow, and neither will Dev. You’ll always be targets to David and his men so long as you remain here. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” she admitted. “I’ve never been stalked on the ground. Well, I should take that back. Bagram was mostly safe, but from time to time, the Taliban would throw a mortar or an RPG over the fence at us. The fixed-wing terminal sat in the middle of that huge base, though, so we never got mortared. I felt very safe taking off with a load under my wings. I never worried about getting shot out of the sky. It’s true, we took evasive landing patterns to avoid such a possibility, but in all the years I flew in and out of there, my F-16 never had a single bullet hole in it.”

“And that’s why we need to get you and Dev up to speed on firearms training and other tactics a ground pounder would automatically employ if he or she were assaulted by an enemy force.”

“I’m prepared to undertake that kind of training and I know Dev is too, Shep. We’re staying put.”

“Hey,” he teased, lightening the tension, “think of it this way? We just agreed to get back together and take another run at living with one another, right? Why would I wanna give up that sweet honeypot by chasing you off?”

She punched him playfully in the arm and he feigned a wince.